


It's Still Funny

by predominantly_normal



Category: Captain Underpants Series - Dav Pilkey
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Minor Inappropriate Themes, No Romance, minor language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 02:58:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11118480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/predominantly_normal/pseuds/predominantly_normal
Summary: "Just like everything else- Disney pop stars, cartoons, and even George and Harold themselves- literature must age. And often, like everything else (Disney pop stars especially), literature ages for worse." - Now in high school, George finds it harder to get his best friend in on the joke. [One-Shot]





	It's Still Funny

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I realize it might be a bit silly for me to write, of all things, fanfiction for possibly the least fanfiction-garnering series ever penned, but the Captain Underpants books were my first true inspiration to write and draw my own stories, and after seeing the movie, I really wondered what George and Harold might be like if they grew up with all the kids who read their stories. 
> 
> This is just a really short one-off with no real substance or purpose other than to showcase some headcannons and have some fun.

The Only Chapter **  
****George and Harold**

There are two boys standing outside the principal’s office. One boy is pacing back and forth. He has a baggy hoodie and a bad haircut. His name is Harold Hutchins. The other boy is leaning against the wall. He has a clip-on tie and a flat top. His name is George Beard.

See, this introduction used to be easy when the boys were younger, because back then, books had pictures in them, and nobody had to mention that Harold was pacing, or that George was leaning against the wall. But just like everything else- Disney pop stars, cartoons, and even George and Harold themselves- literature must age. And often, like everything else (Disney pop stars especially), literature ages for worse.

I mean, look at the size of those paragraphs. In no decent picture-book would all of that be that necessary.

But this isn’t a picture book for little kids. It’s a _short passage_ for young adults.

“This blows,” says George. He’s in trouble for a particularly choice prank involving a school full of kids with minimal self-control, and about 370 plastic kazoos.

“I am so _dead!”_ says Harold. He’s in trouble for a similarly particularly choice prank involving a school full of Kazoo-wielding kids with minimal self-control, and about 370 copies of kazoo sheet music containing Smash Mouth’s “All-Star”.

“We’ll be fine, dude. Chill,” George says. “They can’t prove it was us.”

 _“I’m the only person in the school with access to mass printing!”_ Harold exclaims. He slams hands against his head. “Why did I let you talk me _into this?_ I’m going to be banned from the art room _forever_.”

“Quit talking in Italics, and get yourself together!” George snaps.

“Dude, this is why I don’t do pranks anymore,” Harold groans.

Oh yes, you heard it right. Harold _wear-your-underpants-outside-your-shorts-in-public_ Hutchins had long ago quit his pranking career. He had honestly been a Very Good young man since sophomore year, after the new high school art teacher started using a weird form of brain-washing called “positive-reinforcement”.

After orchestrating the school's ear-shattering performance of “All-Star, but played on several hundred Kazoos”, however, Harold's good streak was all but ruined.

George gives his frantic best friend a look, and rolls his eyes.

“Come on- you know it was funny,” George says.

George never quite lost his sense of humor. The only thing that changed with his pranks was the new inclusion of both a driver’s license and a credit card.

Frankly, he’s walking comedy gold. Even the teachers have a soft spot for him since he’s the only kid in class who doesn’t look about ready to keel over every day.

George is a little worried about Harold. The blond boy had become awfully introverted and, dare he say it, a _nerd_ in the more recent years. Harold had gotten into storyboarding- and since then, all of his slapstick cleverness was to be contained on a page. There was still a bit of lewd charm to his work, but George thinks there’s a stunning lack of embarrassing bodily functions, violence, potty-talk, or anything actually _funny_ to be found in Harold's stories.

But to be fair, Harold never was the writer between the two.

Harold might be freaking out a little right now, but George knows for a fact that Harold hasn’t laughed so hard at a prank since that time in middle school when they learned that you can pay to have crates of live ladybugs shipped to your house.

“My mom is going to kill me,” Harold says mournfully. “Why do I let you get me into these messes?”

“Hey, hold up,” George says, “I didn’t do anything but joke about Smash Mouth on kazoos, dude. You were the one who offered to make the copies.”

Harold groans again, because George is right. “Why did I even suggest that? I’m not ten anymore. What’s wrong with me?” Harold says.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with you,” George says. “And who gives a damn about how old you are? Whether you’re ten or ten-thousand, what’s funny is funny.”

Harold sighs. He stops pacing. He has a certain expression on his face- as if he's finally realized the True Lesson to be learned from this entire ordeal. He looks into the confident warm eyes of his best friend, and he smiles. And then he laughs. He laughs until the office ladies shoot him a nasty look, and until his ribs hurt.

“It was pretty sweet watching the cafeteria ladies,” Harold says between gasps of air.

“And those choir kids? Exquisite,” George says, chuckling along with him. He's relieved, in part, because the Harold he knows and loves has come back from out of his shell.

“Who knew they’d be able to jump into three-part harmony so _fast?_ ” Harold says.

“Exactly!” George says. He glances towards the principal’s office. The door is closed. There were a few other kids also suspected of pulling the practical joke. They’re talking to the principal right now.

“We’ve got some time on our hands, don’t we?” George says with a sly grin.

“Probably at least ten minutes,” Harold says with a similar expression.

“There’s that big banner up on the stairwell that I’ve just been dying to switch up,” George says.

Harold reaches into his art supply bag. He pulls out a pair of rubber cement wells and exact-o knives. “On it,” he says.

Both boys take off to the hanging banner. It’s some stupid thing the pride club put up for anti-bullying week, as if a fancy sign would actually convince the hormonal jocks with anger issues to stop picking on the socially inept anime fans.

It reads:

STUDENTS:  
NEVER STAND BY; STAND **UP** TO BULLIES!

Harold looks at George. George looks at Harold.

"I'm going to be in so much trouble," Harold says, but he's already snickering.

The boys get to work.

 


End file.
